A Question Mark is Half a Heart Read online

  ‘You’ll have to have apples instead, we have to save the sugar on weekdays. You know that, Elin. They’re sweet, they’ll be fine for you.’

  ‘Sorry, Mama, it’s just so much nicer with sugar,’ Elin said.

  She opened the larder obediently. The apples were on the floor in a lidded wooden crate. She’d recently picked them with her brothers from the tree outside. She took two and cut them into small pieces that she shared between the three bowls.

  ‘I only made breakfast for us, I didn’t know when you were going to wake up,’ she said.

  ‘You know I don’t like porridge. Coffee’s fine.’

  Marianne filled the percolator with water and coffee grinds and put it on the stove. The room soon filled with a bubbling, hissing sound. The gap in her dressing gown exposed her bare breasts underneath, pale and swollen with nipples that had hardened in the cold of the room. She pulled it tighter around her when she noticed Elin’s gaze, tying the belt around her waist.

  ‘Can you walk to school today?’

  Elin nodded.

  ‘Is the petrol all gone?’

  ‘Not all gone, but you know … we should save it, so we can drive into Visby some day. You and Fredrik can come along if you want. As a reward, if you walk the boys to school the rest of the week. It’s stopped raining today at least.’ She leaned forward so she could see the dark clouds beyond the kitchen window.

  Elin lit up.

  ‘Then maybe we can buy shoes for gym class? For Erik and Edvin at least, I don’t mind going barefoot if we don’t have the money. But they play so much football, and they get hurt.’

  Marianne ignored her question and started doing the dishes. Sunny wound around her legs with her tail wagging.

  ‘Are you hungry, do you want some food too?’

  Elin crouched down and scratched the black-and-white border collie behind the ears. The dog pressed her nose against Elin’s cheek and licked her. Elin held Sunny close, scratching her back with her whole hand. The dog stood up with her paws on Elin’s legs, as though she wanted a hug. Elin fell backwards and lay on the floor for a moment.

  ‘She feels so skinny. Do we have any food for her?’ she asked.

  Marianne had sat down on her chair with a cigarette in her hand. There was a steaming coffee cup on the table. She pointed at the larder.

  ‘There’s a bag in there. I took some from Grandma, they’ve got so many dogs they won’t notice if some disappears. I got a couple of packets of cigarettes too.’ She laughed and swigged her coffee.

  Elin got up from the floor and took the dog bowl into the larder. She measured out the dry food precisely with a cup measure. When she put the bowl down on the floor Marianne nodded at a smaller bowl alongside it.

  ‘And that one? Have you seen Crumble lately? She hasn’t been eating here,’ she said.

  Elin shook her head. Sunny started eating before she’d even taken her hand away from the bowl.

  ‘Do we have some cat food then?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I guess we don’t, maybe she’s been getting by on mice and birds. But I wonder where the little beast has got to? Do you think she’s been run over?’ Marianne said.

  Elin studied her mother’s face. Did she catch a little smile, or was she just imagining it? The thought followed her all the way to school and refused to leave her in peace the whole day. Crumble was her cat, her very own.

  The morning’s heavy rain had been replaced by increasingly scattered clouds, with sunbeams peeping through them. Erik, Edvin, and Elin played hide-and-seek on the way home from school. The rules were simple: they could only hide in the direction of home, and they took turns to be the seeker. Edvin hooted with laughter when Elin found him high up in a tree. He climbed everything, as high as he could. Elin told him off.

  ‘That’s too high, you’re going to fall and break your leg one day, I swear.’

  ‘Ah, he’ll be fine. He’s tougher than you think.’ Erik walked up and stood under the tree, beside Elin.

  Edvin screwed up his eyes at them and jumped straight down with his arms outstretched as though they were a parachute. Elin screamed, but Edvin landed successfully and grinned at her triumphantly.

  ‘See? He’s not just a monkey, he’s a bird too,’ Erik laughed.

  Edvin curled up by the tree trunk, put his hands over his eyes and started to count out loud as Elin and Erik ran quickly onwards.

  When they finally turned into the track to the house they’d managed to hide eighteen times. Erik always kept count, and Elin teased him, calling him a maths genius. They were hot, and their cheeks were rosy from exercise and laughter.

  Elin saw the shadow behind the house as soon as they got to the farm. Someone was there, by her hiding place. She felt her pulse race and kept her eyes fixed on the house. The shadow was moving, as though it was digging, or playing with something on the ground. Elin swallowed. Maybe Marianne had found her jars, her hiding place.

  Hopefully Fredrik had just got there before them.

  She slowed down and let her brothers go ahead, running fast, swinging their school bags and shoving one another.

  Elin crept along the front of the house and peered around the corner. She screamed at the sight that awaited her. Marianne was holding one of the kittens in her hand, Sol. It was wet from the water butt, its head hanging lifelessly. She threw it aside, in a heap with two of the others. Then she bent down to a jute sack and got out another, Pluto, and without hesitation plunged it down into the water and held it beneath the surface. Elin threw herself at her mother, who fell backwards and smacked her head hard against the ground. Groping around in the cold water, Erin caught hold of the kitten’s tail. She pulled it out and massaged the little body, but it was already too late: it was dead, its body limp.

  Elin turned to Marianne, who had stood back up, and started kicking and hitting her.

  ‘Murderer!’ she screamed. ‘Murderer!’

  Marianne grabbed Elin’s wrists hard and twisted her onto her back. Elin didn’t have a chance. Marianne fixed her eyes on Elin’s.

  ‘Now you be quiet. You hear?’ she hissed.

  ‘They’re my cats, Crumble’s mine, the kittens are mine. Murderer!’ Elin screamed, writhing to escape Marianne’s grip.

  ‘We can’t have five more cats. Don’t you get that? You stupid little brat!’ Marianne let go with one hand and slapped Elin hard. Her ears ringing and her cheek glowing red, Elin saw her chance to escape. Kicking Marianne hard in the shin, she grabbed the jute sack containing the last kitten and ran as fast as she could across to the barn and up into the hayloft. Crumble was already gone, the nest abandoned, the only evidence something had recently lived there was some flattened hay. She sat with Venus on her knee and stroked the little kitten’s back.

  ‘I’ll take care of you. You’ll never die,’ she whispered with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  The sole had come loose from the foot of one of her Wellingtons, and every time her foot flexed mid-step, water seeped in. That’s why Elin always tried to keep that foot flat when it rained. She limped along with her toes stretched out stiffly. Her sock got soaked through anyway and made the rest of her body cold. She took a shortcut across the fields. Floff, floff, floff, the soles went as they stuck fast in the mud and then let go. She put her heel down first, so she wouldn’t slip and fall over backwards. Far off she could see Gerd and Ove’s house. In one of her jacket pockets she had the kitten, which she could feel moving against her leg. Gerd would never drown it, Gerd would take care of it for her. She’d creep in and put it down somewhere it would be easy to find.

  Elin crept along the building, keeping close to the rough, yellow-painted wooden walls. As she approached the corner of the house she looked carefully in each direction and then ran as fast as she could over to the veranda. She stood on tiptoe and peered in through the window. There was a light on inside, but she could see neither Gerd nor Ove.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Ove’s soft voice took her
by surprise. He put his hand on her shoulder. She jumped, but didn’t turn around, just stiffened. Her gaze faltered, but her head was still facing the window.

  ‘You’re looking for a snack, I expect. Gerd’s inside, run along in.’

  The kitten writhed in her pocket and Elin held her hand against the fabric and twisted her torso so he wouldn’t be able to see the movements. The door opened and Gerd came out onto the veranda.

  ‘Just the visit I was hoping for!’ she cried happily.

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘I’m always so pleased when sweet little lassies turn up unannounced. Come in, I’m baking, there’ll be warm buns soon.’

  She held the door open, and Elin pulled the jacket tighter around her body, cupping one hand over the kitten, before taking a step up the stairs, leaving a trail of mud.

  ‘But those boots are not coming in my house. Sit down and I’ll help you.’

  Gerd took hold of Elin’s heel and pulled. The sole flapped open and bared her foot. Her white sports sock was wet and muddy so she pulled that off too.

  ‘These boots are staying here,’ said Gerd. ‘Your mama needs to buy you some new ones.’

  Elin shook her head fiercely as Gerd held the boot high in the air and swung it, as though she were about to throw it out across the lawn towards the rubbish heap.

  ‘No, they’re mine!’ she cried.

  She jumped down quickly from the chair, grabbing the boot out of Gerd’s hand just as she was about to let it go, and ran back down the steps. She shuddered as her bare foot touched the damp ground and hopped a few steps away on the foot that was still wearing a boot.

  ‘My dear child, I won’t take your boots if they mean so much. Come back and let’s have tea. The buns will be done in a minute.’

  Elin put her bare foot down on the boot. Her jacket was quivering from the increasingly lively movements of the cat in her pocket. Gerd reached out her hands. When Elin didn’t come any closer, she went down to her.

  ‘Sweetheart, I’m not going to take your shoes away. I’m sorry.’ She put her arms around Elin, but then pushed her to arms’ length.

  ‘What’s that moving? What have you got in your pocket, child?’

  She shoved her hand into Elin’s pocket and pulled out the little mottled-brown kitten.

  ‘Christ, where did you find this?’

  ‘Can you take care of her? Please? Her name is Venus,’ Elin whispered. ‘Mama’s going to kill her otherwise, she’s already killed the others.’

  Gerd held the kitten against her cheek, stroking its soft fur.

  ‘Ove,’ she called. ‘Ove, come look, have you ever seen anything so sweet. We’ve got a new friend.’

  She winked at Elin and took her hand.

  ‘I’ve always wanted to have a little cat. Imagine your knowing that, you’re a clever one, you are.’

  NOW

  NEW YORK, 2017

  Elin is carrying a large armful of white lilies and a paper bag full of freshly baked croissants. She’s on time for once, and breaks into a run as she gets home. The flowers’ strong scent tickles her nose.

  When the lift doors open, she’s met by Sam. He’s wearing jeans and a cap and is on his way somewhere. He’s holding his wallet and keys and looks surprised. She holds the flowers out to him.

  ‘Oh, are you home already? And with flowers, were they a prop?’

  ‘No, not at all. I bought them for you on the way home, you love lilies.’

  ‘Loved. That was a long time ago now.’

  Elin smiles and holds them out again.

  ‘Do you remember? In Paris. You bought me lilies and I bought you roses. Though it should have been the other way around. Do you remember how many years it took us to find out who liked which best?’ Elin laughs.

  Something flickers in Sam’s eyes.

  ‘Sure, I remember,’ he says, nodding. ‘But I have to go now.’

  Elin doesn’t move.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘There’s a match I want to see this evening. A few people from the office are going, so I was thinking of joining them. I’m tired of sitting at home on my own all the time.’

  Elin holds out the other hand, the one with the bag. The scent of fresh pastries floats up to them.

  ‘I’ve got croissants. We were going to talk, remember? I was going to listen to you. I promised.’

  ‘I thought that was just something you said.’

  ‘No! I meant it. Please, can’t you stay home, so we can talk?’

  ‘Not tonight. I want to do something besides sitting around waiting for you.’

  Elin can hear his irritation growing with each word.

  ‘I work too much,’ Elin says. She’s still standing there, blocking the door. ‘It’s true. I miss you.’

  Sam holds up his hands and grunts at her:

  ‘That’s enough, don’t get sentimental. Move, I’ll miss the match.’

  He forces his way past and enters the lift.

  ‘Don’t wait up.’

  Elin kicks her shoes off, drops the bouquet and the bag and pulls her dress over her head.

  ‘Please wait. I’ll come too, I’m just going to change. It’ll take a minute, max. I’m fast.’

  Sam sighs loudly as the lift doors start to close.

  ‘It’s too late, Elin, don’t you get it? It’s your turn to be home alone,’ he says. The gap gets smaller and smaller and he finally disappears leaving only Elin, standing there in her underwear.

  There’s so much to lose. Elin wanders from room to room in the silent, empty apartment. All the furniture, all the art. She stops in front of each canvas and studies the decor they chose together so carefully, she and Sam. The drab colours, the abstract patterns. Not one of the paintings depicts something real.

  She’s always loved art. What were once her own clumsy lines on thin sketch paper have become a world of oils, acrylics, and photography; valuable works by renowned artists.

  Valuable works. She shudders at the thought and wanders on. Everything has its place, everything is considered. Objects are carefully arranged on tables and shelves. Figurines, boxes, lamps. Like little still lifes or installations. Forms and colours in harmony.

  On one shelf there are pictures of Alice dancing. Elin picks up one of the frames, the one where she’s youngest, just a few years old, and holds the little girl who no longer exists close to her heart. In front of her, in another picture, a young girl dances with strong, precise movements. A part of her and Sam and yet so unique. The most beautiful creature she’s ever seen. She gets out her phone and sends three red hearts to show she’s thinking of her.

  Elin inhales and sits down on the sofa, standing the picture of the child she once had on the table in front of her. Alice is so pretty, in a pink tulle skirt and a glittery white top.

  Also on the table is a stack of books. One has her name on the spine, in large black letters: Elin Boals. It’s a collection of portraits she’s done of famous people. Beautiful people. Beautiful pictures. Where success and beauty walk hand in hand, in beautiful surroundings.

  Stars.

  But even stars can fade.

  Her stomach is cramping again. She puts her hand on it and strokes it gently, trying to massage away the pain. Outside the window darkness slowly falls. It’s a long time since she’s been home while it was light, since she’s had time to think her own thoughts.

  The surface of the coffee table is so alive; she’s never thought about it before. The fibres in the wood, the notches, as though it’s been chopped straight out of a thick tree trunk. As though a piece of nature has moved in.

  She lies down on the sofa, pulling her knees up towards her aching stomach. When she closes her eyes she sees a whole forest of red-brown trunks and bushy dark green treetops. Between them, someone is running, a figure that vanishes and reappears. Far away, close. She sees a face looking at her. Eyes serious and accusatory. Like a film playing out behind her eyelids. It’s Fredrik. What does he want wit
h her? Why has he turned up again, when he was just a distant memory?

  The figure disappears and the trees sway in the wind like fragile blades of grass in a meadow. She follows them in her thoughts, lets them rock her to sleep.

  She doesn’t wake until Sam returns. The apartment is dark, only the lights from outside reflected on the walls. He’s with a friend. Their loud voices wake her before the lift doors have even opened. She’s still only wearing her bra and panties. They sound happy as they walk into the apartment, talking and laughing. The right team must have won. Elin makes herself small, pressing herself against the back of the sofa, but she’s in full view as they turn on the light. Sam’s friend turns away, embarrassed, and Elin glares at Sam. He throws a blanket over her and laughs, clearly inebriated.

  ‘You’re home?’ He sounds surprised.

  Elin wraps the blanket around herself and quickly pads past them towards the bedroom and the closet. Her dress is still on the hall floor, but she doesn’t bother to pick it up. She hears the men laugh again, and the sound of the fridge door, of beer bottles being opened.

  When she comes back, fully dressed and with her hair tied up severely, they’re sitting out on the terrace. A cool draught finds its way to her through the open doors and her skin prickles with goosebumps under the long shirt dress. She’s on her way out to them, but she stops in the doorway when she catches sight of the fire. The flames reach up high and glowing orange sparks spread through the air. Catching sight of her, Sam holds aloft a packet of hot dogs.

  ‘Come out! Come and sit down and you can have some food too,’ he calls happily, patting the chair beside him.

  Elin shakes her head and takes a step back.

  ‘No, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got a few jobs to do, I just realised. I’m going to the studio for a while.’

  Elin sits with her diary in front of her and Sam on speakerphone. She looks through week after week, suggests dates further and further in the future.

  ‘These next few weeks are busy, it’s impossible, I can’t find the time. I’m sorry but you’re going to have to keep going alone,’ she says, resolutely.